A SnowBaz Secret Santa!
by ahiru2524
Summary: This is my Secret Santa gift to Tumblr user all-about-the-booty! Each chapter is it's own story, and I hope you love them to bits!
1. Happy Christmas, Simon

**So, this is a collection of SnowBaz fan fictions written for my Secret Santa, Tumblr user all-about-the-booty! I hope you have a wonderful Holiday season!**

 **Happy Christmas, Simon**

"Simon, you're being ridiculous," Baz said, staring at his boyfriend with exasperation heavy in his voice.

"Baz, your parents hate me, probably now more than ever. There's no way they'd even let me in the front door, let alone stay overnight." Simon was sitting on the couch in he and Penny's apartment, although at the moment it was just Simon's since Penny was spending Christmas with her boyfriend.

"You're really thick, you know that? Why wouldn't they like you? You got rid of the Mage, didn't you?"

"Gee, thanks for reminding me. Why don't you also point out that I'm a Normal now, and that your dad isn't exactly the biggest supporter of either of us being gay?"

"My _point_ ," Baz said, "Is that They can't hate you any more than they did, and I'm not leaving you to spend Christmas alone."

"...Are you sure?" Simon asked, looking up at Baz with hopeful eyes.

"Of course I'm sure, you dolt. Now move over; if you're going to keep Christmas movies constantly on television, we're going to watch them."

 _Christmas Eve_

"Baz!" Mordelia squealed when Baz came through the door. He was cold, covered in snow, and dreading what would happen when his parents found out he'd brought Simon along without telling them, but nevertheless he hugged his sister. She smiled, then saw Simon standing awkwardly behind Baz. "I remember you! You're Simon Snow. Baz Talks about you alot."

"Mor!" Baz hissed. Simon smiled.

"Nice to see you again, Mordelia. Are you having a Happy Christmas so far?"

"Oh yeah, we've already made three kinds of cookies, and Father Christmas is coming tonight!"

"So he is, and I bet he's got something special for you," Simon said, smiling when Mordelia cheered.

"You're so good with kids," Baz mumbled as Mordelia ran off.

"Being in care homes kind of forces you to be," Simon pointed out. "So, you talk about me alot?"

"Shut up," Baz muttered. "We should go say hello to mother anyway." They found her in the kitchen, making cookies with the maid.

"Basilton!" she said when they came in. "It's so nice to see you. And you, Mr. Snow. How have you been?"

"Very well, Mrs. Grimm, thank you. And yourself?"

"I'm well, thank you. Will you be joining us for Christmas, I assume?" Simon glanced at Baz.

"Yes, he will," Baz replied. "We'll be upstairs if you need anything."

"Of course. It was nice to see you again, Mr. Snow."

"And you, Mrs. Grimm."

"You can call him Simon," Baz muttered on their way out. Simon waited until they were up in Baz's room with the door shut before he turned on him.

"You didn't tell them I was coming?" he asked.

"It would have created unnecessary drama," Baz said cooly, taking a seat on his bed.

"You're just _trying_ to get them to hate me, aren't you?" Simon asked.

"They don't hate you," Baz replied. Then, just because he loved to mess with Simon, he jumped up, pulled Simon back to the bed with him, and put them nose to nose. "Besides," he whispered, " _I_ don't hate you. Isn't that was really matters?" Simon blushed and sputtered a little, like he always did when Baz surprised him like this. Baz grinned and kissed him. "You're a dork."

"So are you," Simon mumbled. "But we'd better wait until tonight to do anything else. If your sister walks in on us-"

"We're both dead," Baz finished. "You're right. But if mother hung mistletoe again I _will_ follow tradition."

"Of course you will," Simon smiled.

 _That Night_

"Hurry, hurry, we have to go to bed!" Mordelia said, adjusting the plate of cookies one last time. "Okay, it's perfect. Now we have to go to bed!"

"We get it, Mor," Baz said. He, Simon, and Mordelia were the last ones awake, and Baz was more than ready for her to be ready for bed.

"Okay! Goodnight!" Mordelia ran up the stairs, leaving Baz and Simon alone.

"Finally," Baz said, pulling Simon with him up the stairs. They were at his room in seconds, and Baz was already starting a fire in his fireplace.

"You're such a pyro," Simon joked, remembering the last time Baz had made a fire here for them.

"Just get over here," Baz said. Simon smiled and joined Baz on the carpet, but he didn't miss Baz's evil grin.

"What?" Simon asked.

"Look up," Baz whispered. Above them was mistletoe, tucked right in the center of the mantle.

"You're a dork," Simon mumbled, sliding closer to his boyfriend.

"That's my line," Baz whispered. "Happy Christmas, Simon."


	2. Babysitting (a slight AU)

**Babysitting:**

Simon stared up at huge, dark mansion before him. He checked the paper he'd written on a week ago: Mordelia Grimm, age seven, and the address was written below that. Yes, this was the right place. He took a deep breath and let the large iron door knocker fall, the sound echoing in the slightly eerie quiet. He shifted from one foot to the other and readjusted the bag of activities he had brought. Eventually the door opened, but where Simon expected to see one of Mordelia's parents he found a boy about his age.

"Sorry about the wait, my parents gave the maid the day off. You must be the babysitter?" The boy was a few inches taller than Simon, and as dark, looming, and creepy as the house he lived in.

"Um, yea-yes, I'm Simon Snow."

"Right." The boy stepped away from the door, which Simon took to mean he should enter. Inside the house was about the same as outside, dark and gothic. It made Simon think of Dracula.

"Mordelia's in the library, which is through that door," the boy said.

"Okay, um, thanks..." Simon hoped the boy would fill in his name.

"Basilton."

"Basilton," Simon repeated. "Um, I don't mean to pry, but if you're going to be here why am I-"

"I have things to do," Basilton said shortly. "And I don't have the time or desire to attempt those things with my sister around. My parents are not home, as is the maid, ergo my mother called you. Any other questions?" Simon didn't have to be a mind read to know that Basilton didn't want to talk to him anymore, so he just shook his head. "Good. I'll be around, but I'm not to be disturbed for anything short of a house fire." Simon watched as Basilton disappeared into one of the many rooms connected to the foyer, then turned and found his way to the library where a little girl, Mordelia he assumed, was sitting in a large plush chair with a book as thick as her arm.

"Hello, Mordelia, I'm Simo-"

"Shhhh," she said, not looking up. Simon nodded slowly before finding a chair nearby. He pulled out his own book he'd brought just in case, and began reading, glancing up at Mordelia every so often. After about an hour and a half she got up, put the book away, and walked out of the room. Quickly Simon marked his place and followed. Mordelia was on her way up the enormous staircase that was the focal point of the foyer.

"I'm going to my room to play _alone_ ," she said to Simon.

"Um, okay, Mordelia. I'll be in the library if you need anything." Simon waited until she was up the stairs before returning to the library. He felt awkward not doing anything, but clearly Mordelia didn't want anything to do with him, so he continued reading. That is, until Basilton burst into the room carrying an instrument case. Before Simon could make his presence known Basilton had opened the case and was pulling out a bow.

"You play the cello?" Simon asked. Basilton flinched, then let out a long sigh.

"It's a _violin_. And yes, I play. Now I'll thank you to leave me alone."

"Sorry." There was a pause while Basilton fiddled with the bow.

"...That means leave," he finally said.

"Sorry," Simon repeated, "I just...Mordelia didn't want me around, and I wasn't sure where else to go."

"Not my problem. I _don't_ perform." Simon stood up awkwardly and left, though he still didn't know where to go, and ended up sitting on the hard stone steps until Mrs. Grimm returned home.

And so it continued for a few more weeks. Simon would show up and be greeted by Basilton, although on occasion it was the maid, and he would spend several hours doing whatever he liked while Mordelia read in the library or hid in her room. Basilton usually ended up playing violin in the library, and Simon eventually stopped reading and started listening. He was good, great in fact, and part of Simon wished he could enjoy the music without the heavy wooden doors buffering it. He got his chance on his seventh babysitting job; he had just left the library so Basilton could play, but when he sat down on the stairs he realized he had left his bag in the library. He walked back over to the slightly open door and knocked, pushing it open at the same time.

Basilton was clearly in his own world, playing violin like a master, so Simon slipped in quietly and crept over to where his bag was on the floor. He had just closed his hand around the strap when the library door fell shut with a loud, heavy thud. Basilton spun around, cutting off his song mid-note. His eyes fell on Simon and blazed.

" _What_ are you doing in here?" he asked.

"I-I-I forgot my bag and...I knocked," Simon mumbled. Quickly he grabbed his bag and scurried to the door, but when he turned the doorknob he felt a sickening lack of tension. "Um..."

"What?" Basilton asked through gritted teeth.

"I...I think it's stuck. Locked." Basilton charged over and wrenched on the door, but it didn't budge.

"Great, just _great_! How am I supposed to do _anything_ with _you_ here?"

"Well, I mean, you could still play. I won't talk."

"I don't play for people, you idiot. I told you that."

"I know. But...you're really good." Basilton looked at Simon with a combination of shock, anger, and...fear, Simon thought.

"You've been listening?" Basilton asked.

"Well, I mean, the door isn't soundproof. I heard a bit of your playing while I was out there, and, well, you're really good."

"You said that already."

"Well it's true." Simon nodded at the violin Basilton had abandoned on a nearby table.

"Will you play some more? Please?" Basilton eyed the violin like it might bite, then cut his eyes to Simon.

"Not one word," he said, picking up the voilin. Simon nodded and took a seat nearby. Basilton started from the begining of the song, the notes drifting and combining in a beautiful wave of music that left Simon speechless. When Basilton finished he set the violin back in it's case and turned to Simon.

"Happy?" he asked.

"Very." Simon replied. "Basilton, you're-"

"Baz"

"Huh?"

"Call me Baz," Baz said. "It's...less formal. I prefer it unless it's a formal business matter."

"Oh, okay. Baz," Simon tested it out; he liked it. "I'm...still just Simon."

"I figured," Baz said, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

"So, does this mean you don't hate me?" Simon asked. The smile grew.

"Who ever said I hated you?"

"I assumed you did. I mean, you're usually pretty cool and formal with me, even though we're the same age and I'm just here to babysit your sister."

"That doesn't mean anything." Simon was about to say more when the library door opened.

"There you are. Mr. Snow, I hope you are not under the impression that just because Mordelia prefers her privacy that means I will pay you for befriending my son," Daphne said.

"Of course not, Mrs. Grimm," Simon said quickly. "I'm sorry. I was just-"

"I asked him to come in, mother," Baz said. "I wanted his opinion on my new piece. An unbiased ear and what have you."

"I see. Well in the future, Basilton, pehaps you could save making friends for when I am not paying them to watch your sister?"

"Of course, mother." Daphne nodded, handed Simon the money for babysitting, and left.

"Well, I guess I'll go," Simon said. "Um, thanks for playing for me."

"Yeah. Simon?"

"Yeah?" Simon paused at the library door.

"Maybe, if you aren't busy, next week you could stay later?"

"Sure!" Simon said, nodding so hard his blond curls flopped into his eyes. Baz smiled and watched him leave, already counting down until the next time he saw Simon.


	3. Rockstar AU

**Rockstar AU**

Baz POV

Baz Pitch adjusted the dark red velvet strap on his jet black guitar. Was it completely vampire-looking and just slightly tacky? Probably. Did he love it anyway? Of course. He ran a hand through his black hair and pretended to listen while his manager warned him not to pull any stupid stunts.

"Remember, we don't had the security in place to do anything crazy like crowd surfing or anything. And you _can not_ go walking through the audience again. I mean, for goodness sakes, Basilton, you nearly got mauled last time!"

"Please, I was fine. Besides, that girl never had a chance. If she read a single interview or magazine from the last year she'd know I'm gay. I really doubt she was any harm. Further, she was, what, twelve? How did she even get in without an adult?"

"You're missing the _point_ ," Marla snapped. "Promise me, Baz, you won't pull any impromptu stunts?"

"Sure, Marla," Baz said, crossing his fingers behind his back. He couldn't promise not to make the show fantastic for his fans, and they loved when he pulled out something big. He checked his mic one more time, put in his earplugs, and pushed open the door to his dressing room. He wasn't scheduled to go on for another twenty minutes, and the opening act hadn't even started, but already he could hear the crowd chanting.

Simon POV

Simon clutched the guardrail in anticipation, feeling the adrenaline radiating through him. He'd been a fan of Baz Pitch since he'd released his first song, two years before he'd even gotten famous. Simon had sat for hours listening to Baz's online videos, and had closely followed Baz's rise to fame, cheering him on from afar. Now he was actually at a concert, and he had to keep reminding himself it was real. Baz had not only given him the gift of amazing music, but had also inspired Simon to come out to his family and friends after Baz, life at the VMAs, announced that he was gay, and was tired of hiding it. Simon had been amazed that someone who was so prominent in Hollywood could so easily declare that he was different from the (socially constructed) norm, and it had inspired him to be himself as well.

Which was a big reason why he was here, actually. He wanted to thank Baz for everything, but doubted that sending a standard fan mail letter would even get to Baz, let alone have the impact he wanted. So instead it was safely tucked in the pages of a notebook in Simon's backpack, waiting for the end of the show, so Baz didn't have to worry about losing it during the show. Simon had thought it all out, and although he felt a little obsessive he knew this was something he wanted to do. Just then the opening act came on, and Simon's grip on the guardrail tightened; it was starting.

Baz POV

Half an hour later Baz was ready to step out on the stage. He picked up his guitar and climbed onto the small platform that let him rise up in the middle of the stage, making a theatrical entrance. The lights were all out, except for a red one that backlit him, silhouetting him as he rose. When his head came into view of the crowd he heard them scream and he didn't bother to hide the grin that broke on his face. He looked up, making eye contact with some of the closest fans, who screamed louder. Then his eyes landed on an anomaly: a boy, seemingly about his age, standing completely silent and watching Baz with...something other than the blind fan love he usually saw. This was something more...honest, more real. And, to top it off, the boy was _very_ attractive. ' _Yeah, okay, he's_ _definitely_ _going to be the one I bring up on stage later'_ Baz decided.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" he yelled. The response was defining. "Good," he said, chuckling. "Are you ready to get this started?" Again, noise that almost broke his ears through his earplugs. He smiled, and without another word blasted out the opening chord to one of his favorite songs to open with, ' _Kindred Night'_. He could feel the energy of the crowd rise with every passing lyric.

" _You are my never solace, the spark before the flame_

 _In this darkness of my soul you are the one who stays with me_

 _tonight we'll feel our souls collide, this is our kindred night!"_

When he finished he let the last note ring out, instead of quieting it like he usually did. He felt alive, which was something he didn't feel a lot lately. The rockstar lifestyle had taken more than one toll on him, and the only time he felt anything but numb anymore was in moments like these, with the fans connecting to his music like he'd always intended.

About an hour later he was ready for the big moment he always loved: bringing a fan up on stage. They always looked so excited and grateful, it reminded him why he put up with the three am headaches over finishing a song, or the never-ending interviews. He had just finished a slower song, and he was ready to pick things back up.

"Alright, guys," he said, sliding his guitar around to his back for a minute, "This next song is pretty special to me, because it's pretty old. But, before I get started, I need someone up here with me." Baz walked over to the edge of the stage and looked down at the blond guy with the blue eyes he'd noticed at the beginning. His heart was hammering, but he tried not to let his nerves show. "You." The blond looked up at him in surprise, his curls falling in his face.

"Me?" he asked.

"Yes, you," Baz said, reaching down a hand to help the boy up. A security guard was there to help too, and soon Baz found himself standing inches away from the most attractive boy he'd ever seen, in or out of Hollywood.

Simon POV

"So, what's you name?" Baz asked, coll as ever. Simon had to swallow twice before his voice felt like it would function.

"Simon."

"Nice to meet you. You know _Savior_?" Baz asked.

"It's my favorite," Simon answered honestly. Baz grinned and handed Simon a microphone.

"Good." Simon waited for Baz to take the first verse, then joined in hesitantly; this was so surreal he was afraid to break the spell.

" _Invisible wings, like an angel of the night_

 _bringing me back from the brink of this neverending spiral of my life_

 _the one I never thought I'd find, constant in my dreams_

 _stay with me, my savior, together, perfectly."_

Simon glance at Baz, who turned and looked him square in the eyes while the musical break built. Simon felt like he was going to explode.

Baz POV

He was going to explode. He could feel it. Simon's eyes were burning blue under the stage lights, and Baz almost forgot to keep singing when the time came.

"Wait here," Baz mumbled, covering his mic. He rushed to the side of the stage where an assistant kept his extra guitar strings and other emergency things. "Get me a backstage pass, _now_ ," Baz told the assistant, who nodded and ran off. In the meantime Baz returned to the stage. "Sorry about that, minor emergency. Anyway, wasn't he amazing?" Baz asked the crowd, who cheered their approval. The assistant came running out and handed Baz the pass, and Baz smiled. "Oh good. Here," he dropped the lanyard over Simon's head. "This is for you. Thanks for singing with me." He helped Simon back down to his seat, smirking when Simon attempted to speak and ended up mumbling incoherently.

As soon as the concert finished Baz was off the stage and in his dressing room. He didn't have time, or a means, for a shower, so instead he dumped a bottle of water over his head, the blow dried it so it didn't look _too_ wet. By the time there was a knock at his door he was ready. Well, besides his heart, which was beating like a jackhammer. He took a deep breath and opened the door, coming face to face with Simon and a security guard named Michael.

"Hey," Baz said, his voice sounding way more steady than he felt.

"Hey," Simon said back, his voice sounding as unsteady as Baz felt. It made Baz smile, knowing they were both nervous.

"Come on in. Thank for showing him the way, Michael." Baz gestured to the couch that occupied one wall of the small dressing room. "Please, sit. Do you want some water?"

"I'm fine," Simon mumbled. They sat on the couch, a good foot between them.

"So, did you like the concert?" Baz asked.

"Oh yeah, it was amazing! You're amazing," Simon blurted. He blushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that. I just...I don't know."

"It's fine. You were pretty amazing, too. I'm guessing you know 'Savior' pretty well?"

"Yeah, um, I've been watching your videos since the first one, 'Under the Rain Clouds.'"

"Really? Wow. So you're like a super fan?"

"Well, I mean, I guess kinda," Simon said. "Oh, um, before I forget, this is for you." He pulled out the envelope he'd planned to give to Baz and handed it to him. "This is, um, well I guess this is everything I never thought I'd get to tell you." Baz ran a thumb over the slightly messy scrawl on the front of the envelope that spelled out his name. He got piles of fan mail every day, but this felt more genuine than the others did. Just like Simon himself. Without a second thought Baz opened the letter.

"Oh, um, you don't have to read it now," Simon said a little too quickly. Baz smiled.

"I want to, if that's okay?"

"Um, y-yeah, s-sure." Baz unfolded the letter, and began reading,

 _Dear Baz Pitch,_

 _I'm not sure if you'll ever read this, and honestly you probably won't, but I feel like I have to try anyway._

 _First off, I want to thank you for being as open and honest as you always are. So many famous people act a certain way just because they "should", but not you. You tell it like it is, and you're so selfless when it comes to your fans, which I really admire (that time you sent five hundred signed shirts to that radio show after you found out you couldn't stay to meet people? I was there, and I can promise that everyone there really appreciated it)._

 _Second, I'd like to say I love how real your music is. You write about dark things, but they're the things that no one ever talks about that_ _should_ _be talked about. I've spent a lot of time listening to your music, and the feeling of being...understood, is one that I've rarely felt._

 _Finally, I'd like to thank you specifically for how honest and frank you were when you came out. You showed me that it doesn't have to be a big deal, and it gave me the courage to come out myself._

 _I'm sorry if this sounds really stereotypically fanboyish, I'm sorry. I really didn't want it to be, but I really do admire you, and I really wanted you to know that. I guess the short version of all of this is, thank you for being you._

Baz read the letter twice, and probably would have done it a third time if Simon hadn't spoken up.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"What? No, why would I?" Baz asked.

"Because I'm just another crazy fan, at least I'm sure that's how that letter sounds." Simon was blushing, but he also looked really sad.

"No," Baz said, setting the letter on the table in front of him. "You sound genuine. And honestly, I really appreciate that. It's not often people care about me, and not just my fame."

"I bet that's hard," Simon said.

"Yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my job, and the fans mean everything to me, but, well, you're one in a million." Now they were both blushing, and when Michael knocked on the door they both jumped.

"Mr. Pitch, it's time to pack it up. You've got an interview in five hours, and we're looking at a three hour drive."

"Alright, just one minute, okay?" Baz asked. Michael nodded and left, but Baz knew he wasn't far.

"I guess I should go, huh?" Simon said. "I wouldn't want to mess up your schedule." Simon picked up his bag, but Baz was already back across the room.

"Wait," he said, pulling a pen out of his pocket, "Can I, um, I mean...can I give you my number? I really liked talking with you, and, well, I'd like to continue. If you don't mind?" Simon looked like Baz had just proposed to him, and for a horrible moment Baz thought Simon might say no, but then he was pulling a slightly crunched piece of paper from his bag and handing it to Baz. Baz took it, tore it in half, and scribbled his name and number on it, then handed everything to Simon.

"And, could I maybe get yours?"

"Sure," Simon said, his shaking hands barely able to write his name and number. He handed it back to Baz, along with the pen. "So, we'll talk sometime?"

"Yes," Baz said. "Tomorrow? Around noon?"

"Noon," Simon agreed. They stood there awkwardly for a moment before Simon reached for the doorknob. And the Baz was holding his hand, and they were both staring in each other's wide eyes, full of everything this could be and all of the uncertainty that went with it. Then Simon wrapped his fingers around Baz's, and they both had small smiles on their lips.

"So, tomorrow?" Baz asked quietly.

"Tomorrow," Simon agreed. He let go of Baz's hand and left, but he hadn't made it even to the end of the hallway with Michael before his phone buzzed with a text.

 _You're really cute. Also, your eyes are really, really blue._


	4. Nightmares

**Nightmares**

Baz woke up feeling like something was wrong, and almost instantly he figured out what it was: he was in Simon's bed, which wasn't very uncommon since Simon had gotten his own apartment, but what was strange was that Simon wasn't in the bed next to him. Baz got up, quietly making his way through the apartment. No lights were on, but finally he found Simon in the living room, sitting in front of the huge window that overlooked the street below. He looked lost in thought, but Baz could tell he'd been crying, and he looked like he was shaking.

"Simon?" Baz asked quietly. Simon jumped a foot, then relaxed a little.

"Sorry, Baz, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Simon, why are you sitting here alone in the dark at two am?" Baz asked.

"I...I had a nightmare," Simon admitted. "But it's not a big deal, so don't worry about it, okay?"

"You're an idiot," Baz said, sitting down next to him. "If it wasn't a big deal you wouldn't be sitting here, you'd be back in bed. What happened?"

"I...I...Baz..." Baz wrapped his arms around Simon, trying to still the shaking that was getting progressively worse.

"It's okay, I'm here. I'm here, Simon."

"I was back with the Mage and...and the Humdrum. And Ebb, she...and then Penny was on the floor in a pool of blood, and you-" Simon choked and clutched at Baz's pajama shirt. "You were...on the floor, even worse than Penny...and the Humdrum was winning, and the Mage was even more evil than he actually was. And then everything just-" Simon stopped talking and buried his face in Baz's chest. Baz felt like he was dying inside; Simon was in so much pain, and Baz couldn't do anything to help. Instead of saying anything Baz just held Simon tightly, doing his best to shield Simon from his own thoughts.

"Simon...I can't say it will be okay, because I don't honestly know. But I can promise you that I'll be here whenever you need me. No matter if it's two in the afternoon, or two in the morning, you can call me and I'll be here. I promise."

"Baz, you don't have to do tha-"

"Like hell I don't." Baz pulled Simon just far enough away from him to look him in the eye. "I love you, and I'm not going to let you fight through this alone. Not when you don't have to. I spent long enough watching you worry about things all alone when we were in school, and now that I can do something about it, you'd better believe I'm going to."

"Okay," Simon mumbled. Baz pulled him close again, then took his hands.

"Do you want to go back to bed?" Baz asked. Simon nodded, and let Baz lead him back to bed. Baz crawled in, pulling Simon with him until Baz was wrapped around Simon like a blanket. Baz ran his fingers through Simon's hair, and kissed every inch of him until SImon fell asleep. Baz knew he couldn't make things better over night. But he could help.


	5. Maybe

**Maybe**

Simon was sitting on the couch in his and Penny's apartment when Baz burst through the front door. He had a key, and magic, so Simon wasn't very surprised to see him, however the wild look on his face did worry Simon a bit.

"Baz, what's wrong?" he asked, standing up.

"I...Simon I..." Baz was so out of breath he could barely speak, and Simon quickly got him some water, which he downed in a few gulps. "Simon..I think I...found a way to...get your...magic back!" Baz finally spit out.

"Baz," Simon said, feeling the familiar twinge in his chest, "We've been over this. I never _had_ any magic. Not really. It was never mine to use or keep."

"Bollocks," Baz huffed. "Now come here."

"Now?" SImon asked.

"Yes, now. I know how unhappy you are without magic, and I'm going to do something about it."

"Baz, this is stupid," Simon sighed, though he let Baz pull him to the middle of the living room floor. Baz pulled him down so he was sitting on the carpet opposite Baz, who was pulling things out of a bag Simon hadn't noticed before. There were various precious stone that probably cost more than Simon wanted to know, a few incense sticks and burners, salt, a jar of some sort of brown, muddy liquid, and what Simon thought were dragon scales. "What is all of this?" he asked.

"I've been doing research, and this is everything I think we need. Oh, and your wand. Go get it."

"Baz-"

"Go!"

"Fine." Simon got up and walked to his room, pulling the box of his Watford things from the top shelf of his closet where he'd hidden it. It had his wand, his last uniform, some of his favorite schoolbooks, some pictures, and a few other things. He'd planned on keeping them as mementos, but instead he'd hidden them away, because seeing them had been too painful. Now, sifting through his old uniform to the bottom where he'd stuffed his wand brought back that pain. Simon had very little faith that Baz could actually help him get his magic back, but a small part of him couldn't help but hope.

Once he found his wand he returned to the living room, where Baz now had the stones set out in a circle connected by salt. Penny was going to have a fit over salt in the carpet. The jar was sitting open in the center of the circle, and there were three dragon scales fanned out in front of Baz, and another three fanned out across from him. The incense was set on the coffee table, four sticks emitting potent smoke into the air.

"Baz, what is this?" Simon asked.

"Stop asking questions and wasting time. You have your wand?" Simon raised it. "Good. Sit across from me, where those scales are." Simon sat, careful not to disrupt anything Baz had set out. "Good," Baz repeated, "Now hold your wand in your right hand, and put your left on mine." Simon raised an eyebrow, a smirk breaking out on his face. "If I wanted to hold your hand, I'd just do it, you twit," Baz said.

"I didn't say anything," Simon said.

"Whatever. Are you ready?"

"For what?"

"To get your magic back, obviously! Now, you just have to sit here and feel...open, I guess. Receptive. At least, for the first part." Baz glanced down at a piece of paper in front of him. " **Powers that be, all in due time, a good heart is hard to find** ," he read, " **Time flies, hell bent and heaven bound, run the risk, one lost ten found**." He pushed the paper over to Simon while pushing harder on Simon's hand. "Read this," he said, pointing.

" **Let the chips fall where they may, when all is said and done, it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all**." Baz touched the tip of his wand to Simon's, and Simon felt his hand against Baz's grow warm. Baz pressed harder on Simon's hand, and it almost felt like they were burning. The stones around them were shaking, and it felt like everything was slightly darker than it had been a few minutes ago, even though the curtains were still open.

"Baz, what's happening?" Simon asked.

"Just hold on, Simon!" Baz replied. Everything continued for another few seconds, then Simon felt like something was filling him up, warming him from the inside out. Suddenly everything stopped, as quickly as it had started, but Simon still felt warm and full.

"Baz?" Simon asked.

"How do you feel?" Baz replied.

"Full. Warm. You?"

"A little tired, but fine. Did it work?"

"I...I don't know."

"Try it," Baz said, as if it should be obvious.

"But...what if it acts like last time?" Simon asked. Baz stood up, took Simon's wrist, and pulled him into the kitchen. Baz set a plastic cup on the table and turned to look at Simon.

"Make it float. Light as a feather." Baz was leaving no room for argument, so Simon took a deep breath and riveted his gaze on the cup.

" **Light as a feather** ," he said, trying to draw up whatever magic might be inside him. For a moment nothing happened, but right when Simon was about to give up the cup shook, and lifted a few inches. "Baz! _Baz!_ " Simon said.

"I see it, Simon, I see it!" Simon set the cup back down, and Baz had his arms around him.

"Baz...I...I did it! But...how?" Simon asked. Baz held his boyfriend tightly, their fingers woven together.

"You really want to know?" Baz asked.

"Yes! Baz, I thought I'd never get my magic back. How did this happen?"

"I found out through quite a bit of very obscure reading that there was a theory that, through that ceremony we just performed in the living room, soulmates can share magic. There were all kinds of warnings and stuff, but, well, I thought since you already were a magician it had a better chance of working."

"So I have your magic?" Simon asked.

"No. You have some of our magic, Simon," Baz said, squeezing Simon's hands. "We're soulmates, as cheesy as it sounds."

"I could have told you that," Simon said, poking Baz's nose. Baz shook his head and kissed Simon's nose, and then his lips.

"I love you, Mr. Magician."


End file.
